"If I were you, Miss Otter, I wouldn't be so dramatic."
High in the air, the swallow's voice rang out—clear and crisp as ever.
Hermione sat cross-legged atop the flying carpet, staring silently at her two silver-gray paws. For a long moment, she didn't know what to say.
She knew what an otter was. She'd seen one at the London Aquarium—adorable, yes, but that didn't mean she wanted to become one.
If she had to become an animal... her gaze drifted toward the river, where graceful white swans glided across the water like poetry.
"It's probably just temporary! Don't worry!" Ino flapped his wings and flew to her side, gently tapping her furry head with his long, elegant swan beak.
A jolt of sensation ran through her. Hermione lifted her head at a dramatic 45-degree angle.
Pure black eyes. Silvery fur. Two helpless little paws she didn't know what to do with. She looked... unreasonably adorable.
"If you're done marveling at yourself," Miss Swallow chirped, fluttering closer, "you two should get moving. Your task is just below you—that little brown speck down there."
Following her gaze, Ino finally noticed the scene unfolding on the river below.
...
Apparently, animals had social hierarchies too.
In the center of the river was a cluster of regal swans, elegant and aloof. A little downstream, near a patch of burdock bushes, a noisy group of ducks splashed and played.
There were dozens of them, quacking and paddling around in chaos.
On the outskirts of the flock was a small, timid-looking group, clinging to the edges like socially awkward goldfish, never daring to paddle too close to the main group.
At the head of this fringe was a mother duck with a green neck and brown-feathered back—clearly the matriarch of the outcasts. Behind her were a bunch of grayish-black ducklings.
And then... waddling behind them all was one duckling who didn't quite fit.
It was nearly adult-sized but covered in scruffy gray-white down. At first glance, it looked like an overfed orphan.
"Now listen up, ducklings," said Mama Duck solemnly. "This is how the world works."
"But let me warn you," she added, her voice dropping, "if any of you see Madame Reese in the main flock, lower your heads. She's the most important duck here. She's got a red ribbon tied to her leg. That's the highest honor a duck can achieve."
All the ducklings, even the oversized one in the back, nodded seriously.
Unfortunately, their chatter was a little too loud. It attracted the attention of a few teenage ducks from the main group.
"Oh look, another batch of beggars," one of them sneered. "Ugh, that duck is hideous."
Without warning, he pecked the large gray duckling hard on the back.
It was like pressing the start button on a cruel game. The other ducks joined in gleefully, either pecking or circling around while hurling insults.
"Just ignore them," said Mama Duck, stepping forward to shield her child. "She doesn't hurt anyone!"
But her protests were drowned out by the heckling crowd.
"She's ugly!"
"She's not like us—obviously her fault."
"She looks rough. She deserves a beating!"
The ugly duckling cowered behind her mother, bewildered by the jeers and pecks that rained down on her.
She didn't understand. What had she done wrong?
Since the moment she hatched, it had been like this—excluded, mocked, attacked...
She sank deeper into self-doubt. Maybe, just maybe, being different really was a crime?
Unable to take it anymore, she buried her head beneath her wings, floating silently on the water.
...
"That's enough! All of you—just stop!"
A sharp, angry voice cut through the commotion.
Every duck—including Mama Duck and the trembling duckling—turned to look.
There, on the surface of the river, floated a silver-gray otter.
She wasn't very big—maybe a foot and a half long—but compared to the ducks, she was a towering force. Easily two or three times their size.
Hermione was furious.
She'd read The Ugly Duckling before, of course. But the book had skimmed over the bullying. She hadn't expected the real thing to be this cruel, this personal.
Looking at the dazed and frightened duckling, she saw herself.
Back when she first arrived at Hogwarts, she'd been treated the same way—ostracized, mocked, all for being... different.
She liked learning. She liked answering questions. She liked earning points.
That was apparently enough to make her the enemy.
"In my opinion," she declared, voice echoing across the river, "the ugly duckling is more beautiful than all of you put together."
The ducks froze.
But in the ugly duckling's eyes, something shifted—a sparkle of hope. The first she'd ever had.
Hermione caught it and smiled gently.
In that moment, she no longer saw herself as Hermione the human. She had become Ino, and the ugly duckling was the girl she once was.
Perhaps, she realized, it had all started outside the library that day, just like this...
Maybe that was the moment the so-called 'trickster' started turning into Ino.
...
High above the scene, Ino hovered silently.
Ever since Hermione had leapt from the carpet with a splash, he had been watching quietly.
"You see it now," Miss Swallow said, gliding in circles above him. "It's always the same. The little swan gets bullied. This isn't the first time."
Swallows could fly fast but weren't good at hovering, so she circled as she spoke.
"Leave it to me—or rather, leave it to Miss Otter. No one could handle this better than her."
Ino turned his head calmly.
"Every small thing may feel meaningless," he murmured, "but every small thing matters."
He couldn't help but recall something Professor Hans had once told him.
Now, he finally understood why he'd flown all this way to look after one little swan.
Maybe this was Hans's way of making up for what happened to Hermione. Perhaps the moment she touched the golden apple, the healing had already begun.
Emotionally and logically, he didn't believe Hans would ever hurt someone without reason.
But the damage had been done. And no matter how he tried to suppress it, the doubt lingered.
It reminded him of the old Grimm brothers—well-meaning, but oh-so capable of ruining things.
If not for the fact that the ending had already been written in the story... Ino doubted he would have survived the fiery climax in that tower.
...
Under the cerulean sky, a black swan soared high.
Ino watched the scene below: one sea otter, one ugly duckling, and a mob of very rude ducks.
Things were escalating.
Perhaps Hermione had run out of words—or patience.
She raised her little otter paws and charged into the flock.
Action speaks louder than quacks.
Though she had the size advantage, she was also trying to shield the duckling while facing a literal flock of angry birds.
And to top it off, she still wasn't fully used to her otter body.
Inevitably, she began to struggle.
Once. Twice. Three times. The pecks came in waves.
But the fire of Gryffindor burned bright.
Little by little, she fought back, her otter instincts sharpening. Like a lioness cub learning to hunt, Hermione faced her first brawl in the jungle of pond life.
But in the end, even a brave otter is still... just one otter.
As more ducks joined in, Hermione's movements grew sluggish.
That was when Ino knew: it was time.
With a beat of his powerful wings, the three-foot-tall black swan launched into the air, his feathers gleaming with an iridescent sheen—a rainbow-black that only animal eyes could truly appreciate.
Yes, rainbow-black.
Just like a crow in the sunlight.
Because sometimes, to animals, beauty looks a little different than it does to us.